“Shit,” I mutter as I stare at the pregnancy test in Gemma’s hand.
It’s positive. She’s pregnant.
My sister brushes past me, looking like she might throw up, and sinks onto a chair by her bed. The test falls out of her hand. “This is a disaster,” she moans.
Disaster? No. A disaster would be spilling wine on a white designer dress you borrowed from a friend, or your phone battery dying while you’re out in the middle of the woods at a rave.
This is far more than a disaster.
This is a clusterfuck. Dictionary definition.
Gem’s wedding to Rafaele Messero is in just a few days, and she’s pregnant.
With another man’s baby.
Ras Sorrentino loves her. He’d do anything for her. But Gem left him so that she could carry out her “duty to the family” by marrying Rafaele—the most dangerous mobster in New York.
I swear, our good-for-nothing father’s greatest accomplishment is managing to brainwash my sister into believing his bullshit.
Papà’s life hangs on this marriage. Literally. Rafaele is the only reason Papà isn’t rotting in prison right now, but if he can get Papà out, he can put him back in just as easily. The price for my father’s freedom is Gemma—a daughter for Rafaele to marry so that he can be named as Papà’s successor.
Rafaele is already the don of his family, but I guess it’s not enough for the greedy bastard. He wants to be the don of ours too. So he needs a Garzolo wife. And according to his ass-backward traditions, she’s supposed to be a virgin.
I wince. Rafaele might’ve been raised in a traditional, religious family, but something tells me immaculate conception is going to seriously test any belief he has.
“What am I going to do?” Gemma whispers, her wide eyes fixated on the test lying on the ground. My sister has always been the strong one but right now she looks like she’s about to collapse. “Rafaele and Papà need me. Papà will force me to get rid of the baby.”
She’s right. They do need her. The men in our lives are incapable of cleaning up their own messes. If it were up to Papà, Gemma would be wheeled into a clinic by the end of the night, but perhaps…
“Rafaele wouldn’t do that,” I say. “You know how traditional his family is.”
My sister shakes her head. “Don’t be naive. In our world, they only respect the traditions that serve them. Rafaele won’t raise another man’s baby.” Her lips tremble. “I don’t know what to do. I never should have left Ras. You’re right, Cleo. I should have been brave and stayed. Ras loved me, and I broke his heart because I was so damn scared that one day he’d regret sacrificing so much for me. I was so insecure and worried about the future that I completely missed what was right in front of me.”
My heart clenches. That’s how people act when they’ve never been allowed to put themselves first. They self-sabotage because they believe they’re not worthy of happiness.
Oh, Gem. Her whole life, she’s been molded by our parents to be the perfect daughter—obedient and self-sacrificial. They’ve succeeded spectacularly.
She drags her nails down her cheeks. “Ras and I could have had a family together. We would have been happy. Instead, I fucked everything up.” A tear slips out of her eye, followed by another. Her heartbreak is so clear, so devastating, that I feel an echo of it inside my own chest.
She doesn’t deserve to suffer like this.
I’m a shithead, but Gem is good and kind and loyal. She’s spent years protecting me. While I was sneaking out at night to kiss boys who’d never understand my world and going to parties where I’d never belong, Gemma was covering for me and getting beaten up by our father.
How many bruises have I earned her? How many tears has she shed on my behalf?
I never even knew Papà was abusing her until a few weeks ago. He had hurt her for years, and I never noticed it. Honestly, what kind of a person does that make me? It’s like I had blinders on to everyone’s suffering but my own.
Hot shame prickles over my cheeks.
I have got to be better than this. I can’t keep failing my sister. That stops right now.
I walk over to where she’s sitting and kneel in front of her. “Is that what you want? Do you want to be with Ras?”
Her eyes swim with tears. “Yes. More than anything.”
Finally. There’s real conviction in her voice. This might be her chance to break free from Papà’s shackles and do what’s right for her. But she can’t start a new life with Papà and Rafaele on her back. As long as they need her for this marriage, they’ll never let her go.
A heavy weight settles in the pit of my stomach.
I can make them stop needing Gemma.
After all, she’s not the only Garzolo daughter around here.
Fucking fuck.
I brush my curls off my neck, feeling a nervous heat creep up my skin. Can I do this?
I have to do this.
Yes, it’s time to grow up. I’ve spent years dreaming of moving to LA, working as a music manager, rubbing shoulders with the talented and the famous, and having the freedom to do whatever the hell I wanted, but I’d never enjoy it if the price is Gem’s happiness. She deserves to live her life with someone who loves her the way Ras does.
She’s always had my back. Now, it’s my turn to have hers.
I wrap my palms over her knees and look into her eyes. “Are you willing to fight for it?”
Gemma sniffs and wipes her cheeks. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
My chest tightens.
And so will I. For her, I’ll do anything. She deserves no less than that.
“Gem, I’ll take your place.”
Confusion flashes over her features. “What do you mean?”
I take a deep breath. “I’ll marry Rafaele.”
A day later, I’m sitting in an Italian restaurant in Chelsea owned by the Messeros.
This was supposed to be an intimate dinner with Rafaele’s immediate family and ours, so there are just seven other people scattered around the large dining table.
It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
Rafaele’s mother and uncle have barely said a word since we sat down. So far, the conversation’s been dominated by Papà, but even he’s got his mouth shut now. A drop of sweat rolls down his pockmarked temple, and the sight of it fills me with satisfaction.
Nervous? You should be.
Gemma asked to speak with Rafaele alone just a few minutes ago, and now they’re talking in his office. Everyone can sense something is wrong. My sister’s supposed to be getting married in three days, but if their conversation goes well, it won’t be Gemma walking down the aisle.
It will be me.
Mamma is staring at her plate, her jaw tight. Beside her, my brother, Vince, is swirling the wine in his glass, a notch between his brows. I glance to my right, over Gemma and Rafaele’s empty seats, and lock eyes with Nero De Luca, Rafaele’s consigliere. For once, that annoying mountain of a man looks a bit uncertain. He lifts his brows, like he’s asking me if I know what this is all about.
As if I’d ever tell him. He’s just as bad as his tyrannical boss.
While it’s a bit thrilling to be the only one here in on the secret, what’s not thrilling is knowing that the best-case scenario ends with me walking out of here as an engaged woman.
I vowed I’d never marry a mobster.
But for Gemma, I’ll break that vow without any regrets.
Footsteps sound, and a moment later, the two of them reappear.
My heart jumps into my throat. I search Gemma’s expression for a hint of how it went, but she’s looking at the ground as she hurries over. As soon as she slips into her chair beside me, I take her hand and give it a squeeze. She squeezes back twice.
Is that good or bad?
Before I can ask her how it went, Rafaele stops at the head of the table like he’s about to announce something.
I turn my attention to him.
Sculpted cheekbones.
Jaw line carved into a firm, decisive line.
Muscular build that even the sleek tailoring of his black suit can’t hide.
In another universe, Rafaele Messero could have been an underwear model, but in this one, the only thing he’s modeling is how to be the most intimidating man in a room full of killers.
At twenty-seven, he’s the youngest don New York has seen in decades, but he’s already gained a reputation for being the most brutal.
A shiver slithers down my spine. I might be marrying this guy.
I should probably be more afraid of him, but I’m not. I’ve long since trained myself not to think too hard about the consequences of my actions. Papà and Mamma have spent their lives trying to keep me on a tight leash, and if I worried about how they’d punish me every time I broke their stupid rules, I’d never have any fun.
Of course, back then, I didn’t know Gemma often paid the price for my indiscretions.
Rafaele drags a tanned hand over his black silk tie. “The engagement is off.”
For a second, my lungs seize.
Holy shit. It’s done.
“What?” my father barks, his gaze darting between Rafaele and Gemma.
“Take a breath, Garzolo,” Nero warns, sensing the impending meltdown.
“You promised me a virgin bride,” Rafaele says. “And Gemma is not a virgin.”
Papà’s face turns red. “Nonsense.”
“Garzolo, she admitted to it herself,” Rafaele says.
“She’s unwell. You know how she’s been ever since she returned to us. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying,” Gemma says firmly as she stands up.
Nero clicks his tongue. “It seems to me like she’s quite in control of her mental faculties, Garzolo.”
Papà rises, his chair skidding out behind him. “This is a misunderstanding. Let me talk to my daughter in private.”
No way in hell. He’s not going anywhere near her again.
I move to put myself between my father and Gemma, but my brother beats me to it. Vince stares down Papà, his jaw a hard line.
“I’m done talking to you,” Gemma spits out, peering around Vince. “It’s already been decided. I won’t be marrying Rafaele.”
Papà tries to come closer, but Vince blocks his path. “Sit down,” my brother snaps.
“Get out of my way,” Papà snarls at him. “Gemma, what the hell is this? How dare you—”
Gemma slams her fist against the table. “How dare I? How dare you demand anything from me after what you’ve done? I spent my life trying to keep you happy, only to get beaten by you and emotionally abused by Mamma. You’ve never loved me. I don’t think you’ve ever loved any of your kids. I’m through with you. My only regret is that it took me this long to get here.”
Let him hear it, Gem.
“And by the way, I’m pregnant,” she says.
Our parents’ reaction is priceless. I wish I could take a picture of their shell-shocked expressions so that I’d have something to look at on the days I’m feeling down.
“Like I said, Gemma is no longer qualified to be my wife,” Rafaele drawls, cutting through the stunned silence with his cold voice. “The stipulations in our contract were very clear. I’ve already delivered what I promised. I got you out of prison, and I got your charges dropped. This isn’t how I do business, Garzolo.”
“What do you want me to do?” Papà rasps. He’s really panicking now. “I had no idea—”
“You owe me a wife.” Rafaele’s gaze falls on me. “So I’m taking your other daughter.”
Our eyes clash together. His are so cold that most people are repelled by their icy scrutiny, but right now, there’s something else swirling inside all that ice.
Something vaguely possessive.
My blood chills in my veins as my surroundings fade. I don’t break eye contact even though it feels like a noose is slowly being tightened around my neck.
In our world, marriage is never an equal partnership. It’s a prison.
And I’m not the kind of person who does well in captivity.
Just ask my parents. I’ve disobeyed them my whole life. The more they tried to control me, the more I rebelled. I was going to find a way out of this life. I would leave New York, build a career, and become independent.
That dream is all over now, isn’t it?
I tear my gaze away from my future husband and look at my sister.
Gem.
That’s right. This isn’t about me.
I’m doing this for her. Because I love her, and I want her to be happy with Ras and her baby. My dreams have always been just that—dreams. But her happy ending is real and ready for the taking.
“Everyone knows that girl is a slut.”
The voice of Rafaele’s uncle pierces through the pounding in my ears.
I flinch even though it’s not the first time someone’s called me that.
One of my recent attempts to piss my parents off included lying about going all the way with an outsider. They bought it, given Papà was the one who walked in on us in bed. The truth is all we did was some heavy petting, but I encouraged the rumor to spread. If it helped me avoid marriage, I didn’t care what anyone thought of me.
But right now, the word bothers me. If it’s what stops Gemma from getting away from here, I’ll never forgive myself.
Rafaele turns to his uncle. “I’m aware there are rumors floating around about my future wife. Good thing they’re completely unfounded. From now on, anyone who speaks a word of them will lose their tongue. Have I made myself clear, Uncle?”
My future wife. My mouth goes dry. Jeez, he’s adjusting quickly to the change.
And already doing damage control. He needs to clean up my reputation, so I guess he may as well start now.
Rafaele’s uncle pales. “I didn’t know. I apologize.”
Nero grins and claps his hands. “The matter is settled then.”
“Go, Gemma,” I urge her, giving her hand one final squeeze. “It’s done.”
She gives me a nervous smile, hope shining in her eyes.
Rafaele nods at Gemma to signal that she’s free to leave. Papà starts shouting in protest, but Rafaele’s men block him from interfering as Gemma slips out the door.
The dinner appears to be over. Rafaele walks around the table to where I’m sitting and grabs me by the arm. “Let’s go,” he says in a low voice. His hold on me is firm but not painful. I let him lift me to my feet and lead me out of the restaurant.
An SUV is waiting outside. He opens the door, shoves me inside, and slides in after me. His scent washes over me, spicy and masculine.
Nero takes the driver’s seat and starts the car, his eyes briefly meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
My head spins. I press my temple against the cool window and try to come to terms with what just happened.
“Your sister said your father beat her. Did he do the same to you?” Rafaele asks, a strange lilt to his voice.
I glance sideways at him. “No,” I say. “Only Gemma.”
He rolls his shoulders, not looking at me. “I’m taking you to my home. You will stay there until our wedding, because your father is clearly incompetent when it comes to overseeing his daughters. There won’t be any further change of plans. You will walk down that aisle in three days and become my wife. Do you understand?”
He’s right. My father is incompetent in many ways.
But Rafaele isn’t.
Something tells me there won’t be any sneaking out of his house.
When I don’t say anything for a second too long, he takes my chin in his hand. His touch burns against my skin, but his blue eyes are pure ice. “Do you understand?”
Dismay drips into my blood.
By marrying this man, I’m signing my life away.
I swallow and give him the smallest of nods. “I understand.”
